


Immortal Desparation

by brbmcring



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Artist Gerard, Immortal, M/M, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-07-27 06:35:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7607542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brbmcring/pseuds/brbmcring
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 82: Gerard is a Renaissance painter whose art is in a gallery and Frank is an employee there and they meet while Gerard is reminiscing. [claimed by brbmcring] (Freradhub)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had been a few days now that Gerard had found himself in front of those same paintings. The ones he had painted many years ago under yet another name. He has seen people and trends come and go throughout the years. He lived through the Great War, and even the earlier Hundred Years War. He was still within his first life time when the latter was occurring, and was in his fourth by the time it had ended. Not that it meant much, as he remembered how short people lived back then, todays lifespan would seem like a miracle to them. He lived through the peak of the renaissance and the rise of industrialism. The first flight and the first man on the moon. After a while most things seemed to blend together, and he would be lying if he didn’t say that only his most precious memories still remain with him. After a while he had started to mark them down, the memories he didn’t want to forget, so now he finds himself with more journals of sketches and small stories than he knows what to do with. But now, looking at those paintings, the ones he had done all those years ago, all he saw were the flaws. The misplaces stroked and the misused colors. Throughout the years he has seen so much amazing art that he can’t imagine why people could possible think that his work was anything near being a masterpiece. He chalked it up to historical value, more than the actual talent of the artist.

He went back to that same museum fairly often, on most days he enjoyed reminiscing and he enjoyed the memories that were brought to the surface as he pondered his own work. He would always stay for a while, and made sure to always bring some form of at supplies so he would at least seem as though he belonged there over the hours. No one thought anything of it when he would sit down and stare at the paintings or sat in the museums small café and sketched the various people who passed by. He liked to think he had improved, after all, he had a lot of practice. They were just small sketches of people or things that particularly caught his interest. He got rid of most of his completed sketchbooks, as he saw no point in keeping them as they would just pile up. He maintained that same belief with most things in his life. He refrained from keeping things because he knew it would stay with him, well, forever, as he seemed to find himself unable to die. 

He had noticed the boy who worked at the museum though, the one who would stare at him when he thought he wasn’t looking. Perhaps in another life, under different circumstances, he would go up and talk to him. Spark a friendship or perhaps something more. It didn’t take long for Gerard to swear personal connections out of his life. One can only take so much of seeing their loved ones die. He occasionally had fleeting acquaintances, or even more rarely, a short-lived friendship. The majority of them, however, had occurred in the first half of his life. When he was still able to handle the idea of waking up one morning and knowing that those he cared for were no longer in the world. He supposes, occasionally, that living the life of a hermit probably isn’t the healthiest thing he could do. But if he doesn’t get close to anyone, he can’t get hurt. 

*

The next day that boy came up to him. He seemed nervous at first, and Gerard saw him as he approached. He though to leave, to turn around and walk away. But he didn’t. Maybe it was time to get to know someone other than himself again. Or maybe he was just getting ahead of himself, maybe the museum finally just got sick of seeing him there, in front of those same paintings.

“Hello,” the boy cheerfully said. “You know there are more exhibits than just these right? I mean, unless there’s a reason you only seem to come in to look at the same paintings.” He eyed him for a second then added “I’m Frank by the way.”

“Gerard” he said as he shook Franks extended hand. “And oh, well, I just enjoy these.”

“Really? So tell me, what is so fascinating about them?”

Despite the seemingly sarcastic phrase his tone was sincere. There seemed to be an actual genuine to desire to hear what the older man would have to say. And that’s how the first conversation started. A plethora of terms and dates, of Gerard trying to encapsulate the importance of those paintings to him without simultaneously giving away just how much they meant to him.

Frank, while curious, was also far more intrigued by the fact that he was actually talking to the mysterious man who always came to the museum. Especially since he didn’t quite understand half the things he was talking about. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention. And it didn’t mean that he missed the occasional glaze that would pass over his eyes, insinuating a sense of mourning for days past and memories lost.

From there their conversation only continued, and topics passed from one to another. They talked about art and history, or more accurately, Gerard talked about art and history while frank silently listened, throwing in an occasional question of nod of agreement. He wouldn’t lie, there were times when Frank would almost stop paying attention to the words and instead would focus on the features of the man in front of him. A man who seemed to have the grace of someone who had been around for centuries. Who knew everything about himself and his body, who had such practice in his movements that they were more graceful than the passage of water through a small stream in the springtime.


	2. Reminiscence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An insight into both Frank and Gerards minds after the first time they meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will be updated regularly every week on Thursdays, thanks Em for inspiring me to follow a deadline so I don't procrastinate.

That night, and the day after, Gerard couldn't get Frank out of his mind. He kept asking himself why he had talked to him, why did he answer his question and why did allow himself to speak without thinking of the impact of his words. He saw the way he had looked at him. He saw Franks interest in him in his eyes, in the attention he payed to his words and how he didn't seem to bore despite the droning topics Gerard talked about. He knew he couldn't allow himself to get attached, he couldn't do that anymore. He couldn't handle it. Yet all he wanted was to see him again. To talk to him and maybe sit down and have a cup of coffee together. And the thought of doing so absolutely terrified him. He had spent so long trying to distance himself from everyone in his life, that he felt as though he didn't know how to get close to anyone anymore. All he could remember was the hurt and the pain of loosing those who were close to him. The friends he made who had died and the lovers who had perished. Despite this he craved contact with another person. He missed the conversation with people who weren't casual strangers and he missed being able to confide in someone. He had enjoyed the conversation he had with Frank, and he knew they could have, at least, a decent friendship. In his mind, he could even see more, yet he immediately put that out of his mind. Friendship was as far as he would allow himself to go. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't end too badly. 

By the next day he had managed to make up his mind. When he went back to the museum he would talk to Frank, he may even be the one to spark up conversation. But he would make sure it doesn't last too long. He would make sure he doesn't get caught up in dates and ideas and the concepts behind the paintings they were next to. He would try not to end up on such a tangent, as he was sure that if it happened again Frank would loose interest in him. After all, who wants to talk to someone who does nothing but handle about the technicalities of different types of paint brushes. He was shocked that despite the length of their conversation it was so impersonal. They spoke nothing of themselves, and only about the art. Not that Gerard minded, but he imagined Frank had entirely different intentions when he had approached him. No matter what, he would make sure their friendship ends before either of them get attached. He would do his best to keep it as causal as possible, so no one gets hurt. And by no one, he meant himself, since he was the one who would have to live once Frank was gone. A feeling he wasn't particularly fond of, and that he had experienced more times than he would have liked over the years. All he wanted was someone to spend some time with, so he wouldn't have to spend so much time with himself, alone. 

* 

Frank, on the other hand, was having an entirely different sort of internal debate. Gerard was an artist. He was able to gather that much. Yet despite his immense knowledge of art history Frank managed to have a lengthy conversation with the man without actually learning anything about him. He didn't know what he did or even his last name. He mentally chastised himself for not asking any of those basic questions, because now, even if he wanted to, he couldn't find anything out about the man or even get in Contact with him. He would have to wait until he came into the museum again, if Frank hadn't managed to scare him off. 

He wanted to see him again. He wanted to get to know him better. He had seen him many times at the museum, always in the same section, and occasionally at the museums coffee shop. It had taken Frank almost a week of psyching himself up to actually go speak to him. To approach him and start a basic conversation. He would be lying if he said he expected it to go further than a short response and indirect dismissal, but it had. It had and Frank found himself even more entranced with the man than he was before. His plan had been to start out slow, start some causal conversation and maybe ask him to get a cup of coffee. He expected the conversation to go a lot differently than it actually had. But when Frank saw the passion and enthusiasm with which Gerard talked about art and use of color in the paintings, Frank couldn't bring himself to change the conversation. There was almost an excitement in his eyes as he talked about those things, as if it had been a while since someone asked him about it and he couldn't keep himself from answering as best as he possibly could. In the end he got so caught up in the conversation that he had forgotten his initial intentions, and was more than content to just hear Gerard talk. 

Next time, next time he was going to do better. He would make sure he asks him to the cafe first. He will ask him his last name, and what he does for a living. And maybe, just maybe, he will ask him out somewhere other than the museum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Planning of hopefully having longer chapters after this, actual story stuff will pick up in the next chapter, which will be posted on Thursday.


	3. Grateful Distractions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to the one person who has inspired me enough to write lately. Thank you for pushing me to write, it means the world to me.

The next time he saw him, did not go any better. If asked, Frank would lie and say he totally did more than just stare at Gerard as he talked, studying his face and committing the quirk in his mouth to memory. He did think about asking him if he wanted to go anywhere other than to look at yet another painting, but he didn't, but that wasn't due to cowardice of any sort, he just got so caught up his voice and the look in his eyes when he talked about something he particularly liked. 

"What about this one" Frank asked. That was all it took for Gerard to delve into the history of the painting.

"This one? It definitely catches the eye doesn't it. This one of Cezanne's actually, you can see his palette for this painting is actually pretty limited, the way he composed the trees and the patches of sky, his composition is really something else" 

Gerard seemed thoughtful, almost reminiscent for a moment before he continued "You know, his father was a good man. Even though he didn't really approve of the artist lifestyle he eventually gave in, he was actually fairly well off, something a lot of us weren't fortunate enough to be. You should have seen when him when he found out that Hortense was pregnant. He was absolutely terrified of telling his father you know, kept it a secret too."

"Did his dad ever find out?"

"Yes, about 6 years later though. Cezanne knew his father wouldn't approve, after all they weren't married and he didn't want to loose his allowance. His father eventually came around though, even upped his allowance in the end so he could take better care of the two. Such a precious child."

The look in his eyes this time was definitely one of reminiscence, for a minute Frank was confused, before realizing that Gerard has most likely gone to art school to know all of this stuff, he was probably looking back on classes and his college life.

Someone in the room coughed, snapping Gerard out of whatever train of thought he was in. He looked slightly shocked for a minute before his expression once again settled on one of nonchalance and moving on the the next painting.

"So, Frank, what do you think about this one?"

 

*

 

He didn't know what came over him,usually he did a good job of staying in control of what he said, making sure not to say too much and to give no indication that he knew any more than that which already been discovered. 

He frowned slightly before moving on to the next painting in an attempt to stop the thread of conversation before it continued.

He was more muted after that, more attentive to what he said and how he said it. He hoped Frank wouldn't notice. Frank, who he wasn't even sure he would talk to even as he entered the museum. He payed attention to Gerard in a way he wasn't used to, having been used to surrounding himself with other artists who didn't require any explanations as to the work or the artists themselves. Obviously Frank had some sort of interest in art if he worked in a museum, at least he had hoped so the first time they talked, ignoring the possibility that Frank had only taken the job because it was available. 

Gerard wondered if Franks attentiveness wasn't only due to his interest in art, if maybe he was interested in him as well. He pondered the idea for a few minutes, before promptly brushing it off before his thoughts took him somewhere he didn't want to go.

Gerard wondered if their talks would continue once they finished going through this room, if Frank expected that they would continue through the rest of the museum. And if so, then what? would they part ways? 

He tried not to think of it too much, instead focusing on the immediate future, thinking about how he should really brush up on some of his history, after all, it had been awhile.

 

*

 

When Frank got home his mouth was set in a tight line. He was so angry at himself, at the fact that he hadn't done any better at speaking to Gerard than he had the first time he met. Gerard probably thought he was pathetic, fawning over him like that, only speaking to him out of pity. And damn it, he didn't want pity. 

He flung himself onto the couch, wondering if he should order in or just skip dinner altogether. If he had just asked Gerard if he wanted to go to the cafe or something he could have grabbed a quick bite to eat. But he didn't. Coward.

He heard someone knocking on his door, and in the time it took him to decide whether or not he was going to answer it, the knocking had transformed into an incessant banging

"Dude I know you're home"

Frank groaned, picking himself off the sofa to go let Bob in

"Shut up, I'm coming" He said, as he went to open the door.

"Finally, took you long enough" Bob brushed past him, settling on the couch his a bag, which from the smell, appeared to be food.

"Look, you've been weird lately, and when you get distracted like this you forget how to conduct basic tasks. And luckily for you, I have decided to step in and save the day, you can thank me later."

"Did Bryan kick you out again" Frank asked, skeptically.

Bob feigned shock, clutching his arm to his chest. "How could you say that, you know I worry about you, to think that I wouldn't come to see you unless forced? Frankly I am appaled."

At this Frank just shook his head, knowing from experience that it was no use to argue with him. It wasn't that Bob and Bryan had a rocky relationship, but Bryan had made it clear fairly early on that if he was mad at Bob, he wouldn't want to see him again until he had calmed down a bit. 

Bob directed his attention to the TV, "so, I was thinking about just putting on a movie, that okay with you?"

Frank nodded as he sat down, looking to see what Bob had brought with him. He took the takeout box that Bob handed him and dug in.

Bob shifted his focus to whatever movie he had decided on, Frank wasn't sure exactly what it was, and he wasn't paying enough attention to it to keep up. Iy wasn't long before Bob noticed, shifting around to look at him. He furrowed his brow before asking if anything was wrong.

Frank just made a vague hand gesture and huffed, looking down at his hands and at the food he had managed to mindlessly consumed.

Bob looked as though he wanted to press the matter, but Frank looked up at him and shrugged it off, unmuting the TV and asking questions about things he missed. Bob didn't look entirely pleased at the sudden shift, but let it go under the assumption that if Frank wanted him to know, he would tell him.

They continued watching TV well into the evening, and well after they had finished eating, Bob only getting up to leave after seemingly yawning constantly for five minutes.

Frank was grateful for the distraction Bob had provided, but he was also thankful for the opportunity to be by himself.

He had expected his thoughts to keep him up for a while, but he seemed to fall asleep the second his head hit the pillow.

 

*

 

After leaving the museum Gerard walked around for a few minutes trying to decide whether he was going to eat out or in. He couldn't even remember if he had any food in his small apartment, ultimately deciding to stop as a local diner, not wanting to spend the rest of his evening with only himself to keep him company.

By the time he got home he found himself exhausted. He thought to make himself some tea, brushing the thought aside in favor of going to bed. He wasn't sure why he was so tired, but he was grateful for it, as it didn't allow him to get overwhelmed by his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Next chapter will be posted on Thursday," I said, approximately twenty years ago. Sorry about that, life caught up with me for a while there.


End file.
